Lacrimosa
by ThyDeviousViolet
Summary: Post-Elegy, Scully struggles with self care. Mulder refuses to let her withdraw.


_"I guess I never realized how much I rely on him before this. His passion... he's been a great source of strength that I've drawn on."_

Scully sat upright in bed and mused. The truth she'd revealed to her therapist was a truth that she was still uncomfortable with herself. She'd wanted a certain distance created between her and Mulder with her terminal diagnosis. But, he just wouldn't let the walls come back up, despite how hard she tried. There was a part of her that resented him for that fact. Resented the idea that he was so committed to her and their cause. Resented the fact that he wanted to give her care despite the fact that it would break his heart. Resented that he was willing to fight for her even though she was too exhausted to fight for herself. She hated to see the look of pain in his eyes at her suffering. He did not deserve that burden.

If she was going to suffer, damn it, she would do it alone. Cancer would take one victim unfairly, but not two.

All things considered, it really wasn't supposed to be like this...there was a disturbing dynamic that had developed between them lately. It sickened her to know their roles had been reversed. Initially, their partnership was based on the concept that she was practical, and able to guide him where he lacked. She liked that, honestly. She liked to be needed, to be a care-giver, and to be logical. It gave her such a purpose to guide him, and he reacted well when she was in the lead. It had taken years to gain that kind of trust and respect from him. Now, whenever she gazed into his eyes, she knew it was gone. Not to say Mulder did't respect her, she knew that was not the case, but now it felt as though he held clear superiority. Superior because he was healthy, had years of therapy under his belt, and was able to admit his own weaknesses. Scully no longer held the former, and had never gained the latter. Truth be told, she had never needed the best coping mechanisms or emotional awareness prior to this event. Yes, she had always been stable, but she'd never had a need to develop those skills before.

She never thought that something would come out of the darkness and consume her in such a way. There was a certain feeling of invincibility and innocence before the illness began. Both of those had been shattered in an instant.

Now, she had been weakened by a force greater than herself. It was clear to both of them that her ego was bruised. She felt as though she had no privacy, now that he knew her greatest challenge. She was not sure when she had developed this tough, impenetrable exterior. Maybe it was instigated by the boys club that was the FBI, or maybe it had been a way for her to gain respect from her Navy father as a child. Regardless, she often wondered why she had become this way. She cared for Mulder, but was unable to become vulnerable for him.

Earlier this week, even, he had demanded more from her and their relationship by asking for honesty. From his perspective, he wanted it to be known that he cared for her deeply. He hoped that she cared too, and in response would let him help. Mulder was the kind of man that could be soothed by trying to fix the issue at hand and putting his skills to work. There was a real part of him that wanted to fix Scully, but she knew that was not going to be possible. It was far too complex, and he seemed to hold on to this childlike belief that his will alone could save her. The same sick determination he had for his career was now aimed at her. Somehow, she had become his cause. And, like the X-Files, this cause was futile.

Her phone began to ring.

It was 1:00am, and she jumped at the sound. Suddenly, she remembered that he had asked her to call once she got home. That was hours ago. Naturally, she had become distracted.

And naturally, truth be told, she just wanted to isolate.

With a sigh, she went to answer the phone, but then stopped. Her heart thumped away in her chest, and she noticed her breathing was shallow. The medical professional inside her recognized the hypervigillence. She truly hated this side of herself. Years of trauma built up, and sometimes the symptoms presented themselves when she was not prepared. Her father passed unexpectedly, she'd been attacked by a necrophiliac, she'd been abducted for some time, and now cancer had come barging through the door. That was just the past four years in a nutshell.

When she considered the stressful week she had, it all made sense. She hadn't been sleeping at all. She was lucky to eat twice a day. She wasn't talking about her feelings enough. She'd also confronted her own mortality on more than one occasion. Just this week alone. Therapy today had helped, and it had been suggested that she put more effort into self-care.

 _Please, Dana, try to sleep a bit more. Work on your breathing. Think in and out, in and out. Try to locate what part of yourself seems tense so that you can relax. It might be your shoulders, your back, even your legs. Does that make sense? Be gentle with yourself._

Despite the fact that she knew it to be true, there was a part of her that had become cynical. She was a medical doctor and an FBI agent for god's sake. She knew very well what she should be doing to take care of herself. But, knowing what you need to do and actually putting it into practice are two very different things.

Mulder's deep tone resonated over the answering machine.

"Scully, I know you're there. I'm sorry to call so late, but... uh, I'm concerned about you. I'm coming over. Like, right now, even though I know you don't want that. I'll use my key to get in if I have to, but...it'd be nicer if you'd just let me in. I'll see you s-"

"-Mulder, that is completely unnecessary. It's late. You should sleep," she mumbled, and her voice frightened her. She didn't even recognize it. Something about it sounded haggard and small.

"...You should sleep, too. You screening my calls now, is that it?" he finally squawked, in a weak attempt at humor. She sighed into the phone.

"Listen, I appreciate your concern. But, I'm fine."

"Well, that's nice that you're fine, but I'd like to see for myself. I'll see you soon."

"Mulder, really, please don't-" she protested.

But, she heard the click of the phone before she could fight back.

 _xxx xxx xxx_

When he arrived 20 minutes later, her tiny frame was draped in a white bathrobe. She met him at the door. A small smile started to form at the corner of his lips. He pulled a small bag of candy from his pocket and closed the door behind him.

"I brought Godiva. I know you love chocolate at certain times during the month. I'm perceptive," he winks.

As much as she wished he wasn't in front of her, she could not bring herself to deny that he was doing his best to make light of the situation. It was nice to know, in a sense, that she had become his priority. She hated to admit weakness, but sometimes in his presence she feared that she was becoming comfortable with the idea that she might be able to rely on him willingly. Mulder would love for that to be the case, so that this struggle between them could be over, but that was near impossible for her. She trusted him more than anyone, but her hesitancy was more a reflection of herself than of him. Though she did not have the strength or good humor to laugh, she almost smiled.

They gazed at each other for a while in front of the door. Sometimes, he was frightened that if he looked away, she'd be taken from him. She could see the fear in his eyes and it made her uncomfortable, despite how hard he tried to hide it from her. He blinked a few times, and then swallowed. It seemed he was doing his best to keep it together. He moved forward, slowly, to initiate a hug. After a moment, she reciprocated. And, it was then, that the facade he'd tried so hard to maintain was shattered.

He held her, hand supporting base of her neck. His head was nestled into the small crevice between her jaw and her shoulder. Then, suddenly, he began to sob silently. He gripped to her for dear life, and she stiffened. Silent tears pricked at her eyes, but she dared not move. For the first time, it clicked to her. She was dying, but at least she could be held by Mulder. That was the least she could do for him. The bitter disappointment ebbed and flowed in her veins.

She was not sure how long they embraced in the doorway. Eventually, Mulder sniffed, and then pulled away.

"Sorry," he mumbled, a bit pathetic. It broke what was left of her heart. He used his hand to rub away the moist, red tinge that had formed on his eyes. It was childlike, innocent, and sweet to her.

"You don't have to be sorry," she finally choked, almost inaudible. He just shook his head, and then looked around the room to distract himself.

"When's the last time you ate?" he asked. She chuckled in response.

"I had some blueberries this morning," she admitted. His eyes widened, and his brow furrowed.

"That was over 12 hours ago. How many did you eat?"

"Four," she admitted, meek. Then, she smiled; Mulder did not.

"Are you hungry? You need to eat, Scully. I know you know that..." he offered, in an attempt to soothe her, in case she felt he was overstepping the boundary.

" _No_ , I'm not," she responded, firm. He glared at her for a while, and then sighed. He wondered how a woman so small and so frail could still manage to make his heart race in this way.

"I know this makes you uncomfortable, and I'm sorry for that...really, I am. But, I think your response is just to shut down about all of this, and you can't do that to yourself."

She refused to make eye contact with him, and she traced the lines along her palm. He stopped and stared down at her for a long while. Finally, she took a deep breath and then glared at him.

"I am _processing_ this on my own _time_ , Mulder..." she said, severe and with caution. His form stiffened. He saw right through the defense mechanism, and fought back angry tears that threatened to spill over again with a vengeance.

" _Why won't you let me help you?_ " he finally whispered, each word pulsated with more ferocity. She hated how committed he could be, hated how much he'd do anything to keep her around.

"Because you _cannot_ help me!" she snapped. His eyes widened, and he swallowed hard. "What don't you understand?" she added.

"God damn it, Scully, stop!" he yelled, pained. Scully rolled her eyes in disgust.

"You need to be realistic about this-"

"-I am being realistic. And, I'm not going anywhere. I don't care how much you lash out, or how withdrawn you can be, I'm still here," he spat.

"Here for how long, Mulder? Here until I die? You understand that I'm dying, right? Terminal cancer. The end," she yelled.

He glared at her as though she had slapped him. He gritted his teeth and felt his heart beat out of his chest, before he took a deep breath, and then closed his eyes.

"You're my partner. You're my everything. Period."

"You're just going to hurt yourself," she protested, but her voice broke near the end.

"The only thing that's hurting me right now, is watching you push me away. If you need to do that, it's fine. But, not without a fight damn it. You're gonna understand how much I care about you. How much I need you. How much I-"

"- _Mulder..._ don't..."

They both gaze at each other. They can both feel it pulsate in their bones. And yet, they resisted.

 _ **Not like this. Don't cheapen it.**_

"If I can't _tell_ you, I'm gonna show you. Every day. Do you understand?" he warned explicitly.

She simply nods, and feels tears prick at her eyes again.

"Tell me you understand," he demanded.

She felt her lip quiver.

"I understand," she finally mouthed.

Then, it all came crashing down. She felt herself hyperventilate, and her chest heave. She felt so out of control, so hateful, so harsh against the one person who needed her most. In fact, it was the person that she needed most, too.

She felt his arms around her in an instant, there to soothe and protect. He hushed and rocked, until he'd settled them both safely on the ground. Tufts of her auburn hair were intertwined around his fingers, and he balanced them as she cried into his shoulder.

" _Shhh_ , Scully. It's okay, it's okay..." he finally cooed.

"This isn't fair for you," she wept.

"This isn't fair for you, either," he simply replied.

"I shouldn't take you down with me. I don't want it to be like this, it was never supposed to be like this," she continued to sob.

"You aren't taking me down. You're letting me stay. You're giving me what I want...what I need..."

She continued to sob, but began to quiet.

"Let me give you what you need, too," he added, gentle but firm.

She was not sure what sort of weakness had consumed her, but she tried her best to embrace the vulnerability. Eventually, he'd pick her up from the floor and place her in bed. He'd rub small circles in her back until she was comfortable enough to go to sleep. And, when she offered to share her bed, he forced himself to walk away. As she napped, he did his best to concoct a broth that she'd find edible when she woke. With a little convincing, he was sure she'd agree to eat. He'd start with the basics, and try his best to work his way up.

She knew his plan was stupid, and futile. But, it filled her heart with something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Despite her suffering, she wanted to chase whatever feeling it was in the hope that it could lead her from the darkness. She had wanted to suffer alone, and now she was obligated to a certain sense of duty to suffer with someone else. In making her own struggle a joint effort, she owed it to him to try her best. She did not feel she deserved half his kindness or commitment, but if he felt she did, she supposed that she could too, in time.

She just hoped she'd have enough of it.


End file.
